


Decadence

by frumious_bandersnatch



Series: Domestic WG (better series name to be thought of later) [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feeding, Food Porn, M/M, Stuffing, chubby!Crowley, feedee!Crowley, feeder!Castiel, ruining of suits for the sake of pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29187711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumious_bandersnatch/pseuds/frumious_bandersnatch
Summary: Castiel shows Crowley love in all the ways he know how. The pair take advantage of an absence to explore kinks they both share. It gets soft and sappy.
Relationships: Castiel/Crowley (Supernatural), Castiel/Crowley/Dean Winchester
Series: Domestic WG (better series name to be thought of later) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080914
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Decadence

He enjoyed rest. Enjoyed sleeping and floating in nothingness, for a little while. Sometimes, if he really put in an effort, or made up a spell, he could dream. Made careful sure that nothing was a memory or grounded in real life- real life outside the past few years, anyways. He’d happily dream about those until the end of time and kingdom come.

Being disturbed from rest- well, his reaction depended on who was doing it, how, and why.

Today, with Dean away to spend time with his brother, when it was Castiel carefully bundling him up in wings softer than anything: well, Crowley supposed he didn’t mind that.

“Mm, angel,” He breathed, opening his eyes and offering a little smile.

“Crowley.”

Some habits would never be broken. Castiel’s curtness and gruff nature (outside of when he was really worn down, really horny, or was floating in post coital bliss), Crowley suspected, was one of them.

“Time?” Crowley asked simply as he leaned forwards and slowly brushed his fingers through ebony fingers, delighted in the little shudder it earned him.

“A little past eleven.”

Crowley let out a sigh. “You let me sleep in.”

“You’re welcome.” Castiel cocked his head to the side, lips quirking up into a slight smile. “Good time for a- ‘brunch’, yes?”

“Mm. Yes. Let me get dressed, first.” God forbid Crowley spend a morning lounging in his pyjamas. There was one exception, and that was Christmas, which they celebrated even though there weren’t any children in the picture.

Castiel enjoyed the irony of a pagan holiday with a Christian message, Dean liked getting presents and love and he’d never really had much of a proper one, by Crowley’s estimations. 

Crowley liked the ability and excuse to shower his… his boyfriends, that’s what they were, in gifts. Six months away and he was already planning for it.

“Crowley,” Castiel started, almost exasperated, before the demon cut him off.

“If I had to guess what you have planned today- which I don’t, you were very…  _ thorough _ in explaining just what you wanted,” Crowley sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I don’t think you’d mind me wearing a suit. Why,” He leaned back in against Castiel, hummed out a soft sigh and kissed, nibbled teasingly at his neck, “I rather thought you’d be encouraging it. Seeing as it’s more than likely I’d be popping a few buttons…”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes. I like that.” Castiel murmured, arching slightly and giving a subdued purr.

“That’s what I thought.” Crowley chuckled, slipping away and stretching.

Castiel took that as leave to vanish, presumably into the kitchen, and Crowley carefully chose out to wear.

It was nicer than usual.

Sometimes he just let himself get away with slacks, a dress shirt, and a vest.

This time he decided to indulge himself in more than just food.

So on went an undershirt, a dress shirt in deep charcoal grey (that had recently grown a little tight and he’d not yet gotten rid of it for precisely this occasion), a vest of a darker color, and a suit jacket and slacks of the same hue. A silk paisley tie in black and silver.

He looked at himself in the mirror and slowly carded a hand through his hair, eyes flickering from the normal brown to red and back again.

The plan was, with Dean out and all, to have a little bit of fun on their own.

Indulging themselves.

As Castiel had put it: for Crowley to eat and be fed as much as they could manage through aid of both grace and magic, for them to  fuck fornicate as much and as often as they pleased and, at the end of the day, if Crowley truly wished it, they’d simply miracle however much had been consumed away.

Simple enough. Wonderful enough. He couldn’t bloody wait.

Breakfast, lunch, just about everything was set out on the kitchen table and counter, Crowley found as he stepped out into the combined kitchen and dining room.

“Christ almighty,” It was worth the flash of pain arcing through his being to speak the name of God, because, “you’ve really outdone yourself, haven’t you?”

Castiel smiled at that, all self satisfied and proud.

The spread was luxurious. Pastry and fruit and crepes so far as the breakfast side of things went, a charcuterie board that wasn’t so much a board as a platter; cheeses from soft to hard and sweet to sharp, grapes and apricots and pluots, nuts, prosciutto, soppressata, and Genoa salami. A few bottles of wine, the reds already open to aerate and the whites chilled.

Angulas and caviar and crostata, sushi and sashimi. Steak, scalloped potatoes.

Some things Dean probably would have been jealous of. Most- not.

“Have I? I was almost worried there was too little.”

“No you weren’t.”

Castiel’s smile broadened into something close to something a real human might make if they were happy. More than just a suggestion of emotion. “No,” He admitted, stepping forwards and easing a wing against Crowley’s back.

“The real question,” Crowley leaned into the touch, “darling, is if we want to do it in here or in the living room. I think I might like to take the couch. If you’re going to be feeding me all this.”

“I will.” Castiel cocked his head to the side. “We can take the couch, yes.” As Crowley straightened, started to walk, Castiel simply flew them the few yards in an instant.

“I can walk, angel.”

“Really? Well. I suppose we’re going to have to fix that.” Castiel said, lounging back with Crowley situated half in his lap, up against his chest. 

“Should really let you pamper me more often, Cas,” Crowley rumbled, tilting his head back to press a kiss to the angel’s jaw. 

“You should.” Castiel agreed, summoning a plate from the kitchen and easing back so he could ease an almond tart in between the demon’s questing lips.

Slow, decadent, nice and easy. Not the same sort of glutting they did with Dean at all, but it was nice. 

Because Crowley was hard in his slacks after just one plate of tarts and pastries, and Castiel was too, and the demon was pretty damn sure if he breathed hard enough he’d be losing a shirt button.

Not yet, not yet, but close. 

Castiel whispered quiet praises, enochian, english, even a little infernal even though it burned on his tongue.

Crowley held him in conversation, occasionally stealing a kiss, or lounging further into his lap, or snapping his fingers to change the music coming in softly from the radio. 

Castiel fed him grapes, like one does.

Crowley had jokingly asked the angel to peel them, and it seemed that was the limit to Castiel’s patience because it got him a playful cuff to the shoulder.

They paused in the middle to share a bottle of wine, and it was Crowley hiccuping through a stifled belch that a button pinging onto the coffee table. His slacks. The zipper went down under the pressure and his overfull belly pushed out, would have rested nicely between his legs if not for his vest.

“You would ruin a suit for me?”

“I’m a tailor.” Crowley leaned up for the next piece of French bread with a thick smear of Brie. He chewed the first bite slowly, swallowed, and hummed, “I can fix it up better than it was if I wanted to. And I like this… sort of thing, too.”

“Ah. Then I suppose we have leave to do this more often?”

Crowley snorted. “Of course.”

Cas bounced him up and down on his cock (Crowley would never bottom for Dean, or even in his presence, but he’d certainly make an exception for the angel currently feeding him into an oblivion) and Crowley groaned breathily, panting out soft little whines and moans.

Castiel kept him seated on his cock even after they’d both came.

Easy access, just a roll of his hips to have Crowley moaning, just a little shifting and putting down of food to be fucking him again.

And the point of this was to give Crowley pleasure of all sorts.

The vest and shirt went in one felled swoop. Strain on the fabric and the threads connecting buttons to material too much, a sudden rip right down the center, vest falling open and bottom half of the shirt behind it and Crowley let out a sigh of relief because it had been too tight for the past half hour.

Castiel just undressed him fully after that, and Crowley didn’t mind all that much because that meant wings on his bare skin, and there was nothing in the world better than that.

Belly pooled out neatly between his thighs, Castiel rubbing little circles into it both with his free hand and his primary feathers.

Soothed pleasantly by grace and his own magic, no pain, just a soft, heavy fullness that just got better.

Had him grinning lazily, leaning back further into Castiel for comfort.

And he could tell the angel loved it. The way he stared down at him with rapt attention, watched him eat, eyes flickering down to his stomach as if he could track just how much bigger each bite made him.

Contented and tired and breath coming shallow, lungs crowded.

“We’re doing this again.” Castiel said; a statement, not a question. Crowley just hummed his agreement and leaned his head forward for the next forkful of whatever-it-was.

And, at some point, though it seemed impossible, it was finished. And Crowley was left with the very same dull, happy gaze he so often saw on Dean, the same present-but-far-away smile, the same quiet groans and huffs of contentment.

Castiel smiled to himself, leaned in to mouth a few kisses at his neck. “I love you like this.” He murmured. “Love you always, though it is a strange thing feeling for an angel to have for a demon. I didn’t quite understand, at first, simply tolerated you because you made Dean so… happy. You make me happy too, Crowley. And I don’t believe I show it to you enough.”

And they’d sat there a while more. Castiel finished the wine, listened to the music playing on the radio, tucked Crowley into his wings a little bit further.

And then brought him into the bedroom, situated him on his side, and they kissed slow and sweet and indulgent and Castiel fucked into him in just the same way.

Fuck was too vulgar.

Castiel made love to him, caressed and held and massaged and showed love in every way other than words.

“I love you too, angel.” Crowley murmured, eyes halflidded. He was humming idly to himself, everything so… slow, nice, uncomplicated. He enjoyed it more than he’d thought he would.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> The people have spoken! They said- Castiel and Crowley! People is Classchic1, thank you for giving me the kick in the pants I needed to continue this series.


End file.
